


Happy Birthday: Part 1 and 2

by jewboykahl



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Birthday, Domestic, Fluff, Happy Birthday Craig!!!, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Angst, Mostly Fluff, One Shot, cries in cryle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28974216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewboykahl/pseuds/jewboykahl
Summary: After missing Craig's birthday dinner for work, Kyle finds a creative way to make it up to him.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Craig Tucker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Happy Birthday: Part 1 and 2

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday to my favorite gay blue idiot!!! <3

“Jesus fuck,” Craig pants, still trembling with pleasure. His eyes remain shut as he dips his head back into the stream of the shower, basking in the afterglow of his first “birthday present”.

Kyle stands from his former crouching position with a smirk, bracing himself for the hot water hitting his face on the way up. He winds his arms around his husband’s middle and presses their bare torsos together, grinning into the hard kiss on the lips he earns. Craig’s hands find the sides of Kyle’s face, imbedding his fingers in his wet, auburn curls as their lips slid along one another’s hungrily. As Craig lips curl around Kyle’s bottom lip and suck softly, he allows one hand to migrate between their bodies, tracing a line from Kyle’s shoulder blade to his waist.

With a muffled whine, Kyle pulls back, “I don’t have time, babe,”

Craig hums, “What if I make you cum in three minutes flat?”

Their eyes are open now, exchanging lustful gazes. Kyle frowns and raises a hand to push rouge strands of wet, dark hair from Craig’s forehead. He feels terribly about the unfortunate timing of his return to campus. It is only his second year as a professor, but it is the second time he has had to work on his husband’s birthday. He says, “I wish that were humanly possible. But, today isn’t about me, anyway.”

“No, it’s about me, and one of my favorite things to do is make you cum in the shower,” The birthday boy replies, sticking out his bottom lip.

Kyle chuckles and rolls his eyes, “Maybe we’ll have another shower later.”

With that, Kyle squeezes the moisture from his red curls with one hand and uses the other to pull the shower curtain to the side. Craig wants to feel disappointed at the cut off of contact, but he is rather enjoying the view of Kyle’s back and ass still littered with water droplets. He is officially disappointed when he finishes drying himself off.

Craig finishes his cleansing ritual and shuts off the faucet. Kyle is standing before the mirror in only a plain, white undershirt and boxer briefs. As he dries himself off he poses the inquiry, “When does your last class end?”

“Four,” Kyle reminds him, granting him a quick side-glance as he styles his wet mane of curls with paste and a prayer that it will not revert into its natural jew-fro state in the middle of a lecture.

Craig nods. This will give Kyle two hours before their dinner reservations at six. It is one of the first birthdays he will not spend with his best friend, Clyde, peer pressuring him into getting black out drunk to celebrate. That endeavor is pushed back to the weekend since they all have proper 9-5 careers.

By the time it takes for Craig to finish styling his hair, his husband is dressed in his extremely fitting attire for his profession; a patterned button down, light brown tweed jacket, dress pants and shoes, and a matching bowtie. Craig wishes he had adequate time to gush over how adorable Kyle looks, but he is still in only his boxers when his husband is rushing out the door after a quick kiss goodbye and a boisterous _Happy Birthday!_

Craig works from home on Mondays, as he focuses on story development on these days and does not necessarily need the extensive high-tech equipment that his company provides. He is a video game software designer—or a programmer, as he tells people to avoid the association to the video game portion. Although this requires precision, knowledge, and skill, he found that people often put their nose up to the notion of him creating video games. Whatever—he _loves_ it.

He finishes his work by two o’clock in the afternoon and lazes around on his phone until three. Though it is probably not the best idea to consume an entire bag of Cool Ranch Doritos merely a couple of hours before dinner, he does so, and is only mildly regretful of his decision. It is his _birthday_ , after all—and only one year away from turning 30 gives him a lot more to fret about than overindulging in chips.

A quarter-past four he hears his phone chime, bringing him back to reality from a Multiplayer _Call of Duty_ session. Ordinarily he would ignore it to avoid being kicked out, but he sees that it is a text from Kyle.

**Red (4:16p)**

**Hey babe, running a bit behind, I’m sorry! I’ll text you when I’m about to leave! (:**

Craig shoots back a simple **_Ok_** and returns to his game just in time. He does not think anything of his husband’s tardiness until it is nearly a half-hour later and no messages have come through. Guessing and hoping that Kyle merely forgot to alert him that he is on his way, Craig shuts off the PlayStation and heads to their bedroom to prepare for the date.

Another half-hour passes and Craig is ready to go—but he has still heard nothing from Kyle, even after sending a text asking if he is okay. Worried now, he decides to call him. He curses under his breath when the first call is ignored. Even more worried that something serious had happened, he calls again and begins pacing around the living room.

“Hey—” Kyle’s voice finally sounds, interrupting himself and sounding rushed, “I’ll call you in a second, Craig, okay?”

“Are you okay? What the hell is going on?”

“I’m fine! I got wrapped up in a thing with the dean—I swear I’m heading out soon, I’m so sorry I’m—”

Craig interrupts him this time, eyebrows pointing upward in fury, “You haven’t even _left_ yet?”

“I’ll call you right back!”

With that, the line goes dead. It is nearing the time for their reservation and Kyle is still at twenty minutes away at the university. _Great_.

Craig releases a jaded sigh and slips his phone into the back pocket of his tapered, black chinos. He is not entirely surprised considering how much of a workaholic Kyle is—it is extremely reminiscent of the eighteen-year-old version of his husband that took twenty-one credit hours through his first four semesters of college. Once they started dating, Craig convinced him to take it down to eighteen.

Though it seems a bit neurotic, Craig watches the time tick away to 6P.M. from the clock on their Echo Show. He does not know if he should be feeling more disappointed, sad, or enraged at the missed birthday celebration and the remaining absence of his husband. He wets his lips and shakes his head when there is not even another message or a call from Kyle. To make a point to the man when he finally decides to come home, Craig trudges to their bedroom and changes back into sweatpants and his favorite, stained hoodie.

At a quarter-after, the front door of their loft apartment flings open to reveal a panting Kyle. The redhead’s face is completely flushed, and his expression is already spouting apologies before his mouth gets a chance—though it certainly does. “Babe… I am so, so fucking sorry,”

Craig is sat on the couch killing his braincells with _Blue Bloods_ reruns. He grants Kyle a brief glance before shrugging his shoulders. “It’s fine.”

Kyle slumps down to his side on the couch and unwinds his thick, winter scarf from around his neck. He rambles, “No, it is not fine, I can’t believe I missed our dinner, I am so sorry! My boss came in and wanted to talk to me about my lesson plans and it just turned into a whole thing, I am so, so sorry, Craig, I—”

“I said it’s fine, Kyle.” Craig interrupts, folding his arms over his chest and avoiding his husband’s apologetic amber eyes. He knows he will actually forgive him if he looks at them for too long.

“Come on, I know you don’t mean that… can you please look at me?” Kyle pleads softly, genuine hurt laced into his tone.

Craig huffs and cranes his neck to the side, granting Kyle’s wishes. He makes brief eye contact and lets his shoulders rise and fall again. “There’s not much to talk about. You know exactly what you did and why I’m upset about it. I’m not surprised, so I’m not making a big deal out of it.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Kyle snaps.

Craig’s blood begins to boil. Even when clearly in the wrong, Kyle cannot seem to let go of criticisms passed about himself.

The darkhaired man shifts to better face the other, “It means exactly what I said. I’m not fucking surprised that you chose work over me, even on my birthday.”

“What the fuck, Craig? I do not choose work over you!” Kyle defends, also shifting away to scowl back. “Look, I’m really fucking sorry about tonight, but it’s only six-thirty! We have plenty of time to go out and have a nice night together!”

Craig scoffs and shakes his head. He averts his attention back to the television. “I don’t really want to go out anymore. I’m comfortable. I’ll just order a pizza.”

Kyle huffs, “Come on, babe, please don’t be like this.”

Craig offers only an eyeroll in response as he lifts his phone from the empty couch cushion beside him. As he begins his Google search for pizza, Kyle lifts himself upright and stands before him, demanding attention. He exclaims, “Craig, I’m sorry, okay?! Please don’t punish me all night, you deserve to have fun on your birthday!”

Snapping his head up from his phone to send Kyle a glare, Craig seethes back, “I’m not punishing you, this is just what happens when you decide to blow off our plans. I don’t feel like doing anything else now. It isn’t my fault that you could not just tell your boss you had plans tonight.”

“I tried to! You don’t understand the situation! I’m still relatively new, I have to put in the extra work—”

“You really fucking _don’t_ , but whatever. I’ll never be able to convince you that you only have to work half as hard as you always do, so let’s just drop it and order pizza.”

Kyle places a hand on his hip and runs his other one along his face, exasperated. He sighs, “Will you stop acting like that?! I know I fucked up tonight, but I said I’m sorry! And I’m trying to make it up to you now!”

Craig lets out a quick, sardonic chuckle and stands to his feet. He peers down at his husband who annoying looks very cute in his professor ensemble and arched eyebrows. He responds in an even tone with finality. “I’m ordering a pizza, Kyle. If you wanted to go out, you should have been here in time. Your two options are to keep fighting with me about this or move on and watch _Blue Bloods_ with me.”

With that, Craig treks into the kitchen and rings up Pizza Hut to place an order. After reading off all of the necessary information to the restaurant employee, Craig grants himself a moment to cool off after the pseudo-fight with Kyle. He remains immensely frustrated even when he grabs two drinks from the fridge and wanders back into the room where he left Kyle.

Kyle is sat on the couch, having shed his suit jacket and bowtie, left in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone. Guilty eyes watch Craig trace to the seat adjacent to him and hand Kyle a Jamaican Me Happy. Kyle accepts the beverage with a sheepish grin. They sit in silence for the first few sips of the Seagrams before the redhead unsurprisingly has something to say.

“I’m sorry, Craig… Really, I am,” is a somewhat subdued version of what Craig expecting the conversation to continue with.

Craig rolls his head over to peer at Kyle. Sincerity plagues his handsome face, the hint of hurt in his expression almost making _Craig_ feel bad. The darkhaired man raises an arm and drapes it across the back of the couch, freeing up a slot for Kyle to fit into.

The redhead accepts the gesture and falls into Craig’s side. He rests his curly head on his shoulder and wraps an arm around his middle. He presses sweet kisses to Craig’s neck and ear, as each one were their own apology as well.

Though Craig is not entirely over it, by the end of the night he has forgiven Kyle and ended up having a decent time. They ate and Craig enjoyed being spoiled with gifts, the most noteworthy being an expensive replica of _The One Ring_ from _Lord of the Rings._ The only part that remains upsetting is the lingering, obvious remorse that refuses to leave Kyle’s face. Craig assures him that it is fine, that 29 is hardly a special year, and that Clyde is sure to make way too big a deal at the get-together the upcoming weekend.

Something tells Craig that Kyle will not let it go, however—and it may have to do with Kyle’s horrendously poor record of letting things go.

_

A late night at work was a pretty irritating follow-up to Craig’s underwhelming birthday.

When arriving home at five o’clock, an hour later than usual, he trudges straight to his bedroom and sheds his business-casual attire, slipping into yoga pants and a t-shirt that he doesn’t realize is Kyle’s until he is already down the hall. This reminds him that he had not yet detected the other man’s presence.

“Ky?” Craig spouts, peaking into the bathroom. When he sees no sign of his husband in any neighboring room, he heads toward the kitchen, where the man is also not. A small part of him becomes angry again, hypothesizing that he got caught up at work for the second day in a row. This theory was disproven when the double doors leading to their balcony come open.

“Hey!” Kyle greets cheerfully, dusting his hands off onto the thighs of his blue jeans. He leans up for a peck on the lips before bustling over to the refrigerator. “I’m almost done setting up,”

Craig cocks a dark eyebrow, seemingly having missed something. “Setting up what?”

The taller man decides to find out for himself, tracing out to the balcony. A smile instantly stretches he lips when he sees an adorable dinner set up. Their patio furniture had been repositioned for their coffee table to slot between the two chairs—which was the first time he realized the table is missing from their living room. Gold and white streamers are twisted aesthetically together and draped from the railing, and a helium balloon that reads Happy Birthday is tied to the back of a chair. On the table is a massive bowel of pasta doused in rich alfredo sauce, a trey of garlic bread and two glasses for wine.

Kyle returns to the balcony with a bowl of salad in his hand and sends his husband a wide grin. “It’s your favorite—Cesar,” Craig allows himself a moment to take in the sweet gesture. He smiles widely over at Kyle, who is gaping at him expectantly. Kyle continues to chatter nervously, “I’m really sorry it isn’t much, but I wanted to at least try to make it up to you for yesterday, so…”

“It’s perfect, Red,” Craig picks up where Kyle trailed off.

Craig strides a few steps to close the gap between them and raises a hand to cup Kyle’s chin. He leans down and crashes their lips together, kissing his adorable husband passionately, allowing relief and appreciation to thaw his heart. Kyle lets out a sigh through his nose and kisses back, gently rubbing Craig’s elbow. When they pull away Kyle sneaks a kiss against the tip of Craig’s nose.

“Happy Birthday part two,” Kyle jokes and gestures for them to sit down.

Craig eyes the balloon again and smirks, “I’m guessing this seat is for me?”

Kyle chuckles and nods, claiming the spot across from him. He watches as him dip out their food and pour two glasses of chardonnay. They raise their glasses in unison and tap them together with a satisfying _clink_. It isn’t until a few bites in that Craig realizes he is tragically underdressed for the chilly winds of a Denver January.

“I’m going to go grab a jacket,” Craig announces, beginning to stand before Kyle jumps up.

“I got it!”

Craig has no time to protest, as Kyle quickly darks inside. He could definitely get used to Kyle doing nice things for him like this—even if it was prior to him pissing Craig off.

Soon Kyle returns with a thick, fleece cardigan for Craig and a square TupperWare container. Craig thanks him as he stands to accept the garment and shrugs it on as Kyle reveals the contents of the container excitedly. He lifts the lid and waggles his eyebrows, “Look what’s for dessert,”

Craig’s mouth instantly waters at the recognizable dish. “Is that Tweek’s tiramisu?!”

Kyle nods his head, “Yes sir, fresh from his bakery, specially made for Mr. Tucker.”

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” Craig sighs happily, grinning wider after another kiss on the lips.

They both return to the dinner before them. Craig takes another bite of the creamy pasta as Kyle announces one more surprise, “By the way, you’re gonna be sick tomorrow.”

“Why? Did Tweek poison my cake?” Craig jests.

Kyle snorts, “I wouldn’t be totally shocked if he did that to combat the government sending agents to spy on his shop or something. But no, it’s so that we can spend the day together.” Craig is still not following, so Kyle brings him the rest of the way there. “I cancelled my classes.”

Craig frowns, “Baby, you didn’t have to do all of that,”

“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to,” Kyle assures him, reaching a hand out and grasping Craig’s. He runs his thumb across Craig’s knuckles as he speaks, “I know that I can get intense when it comes to work and school and all of that so I just want to take a step back… I want to prove to you that you mean way more to me than any of that stuff.”

Craig lips curl back into a smile, heart fluttering at the sweet, meaningful gesture from his husband. “I appreciate it. As long as you don’t have anything planned before nine, because I would really like to sleep in.”

“You’re such a dickhead,” Kyle groans at the spoiling of his tender moment. He drops Craig’s hand and chuckles, returning to his food and wine. “But of course you can sleep in.”

Craig smirks, heart full and stomach becoming fuller. “Best birthday week ever.”


End file.
